


Side Effects

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Costume Kink, Drugged Sex, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Control, Oral Sex, Partial Mind Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5685940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If anyone were to ask him how he ended up in this position, Bruce wouldn't have been able to say. The images of the last things he could recall still hung heavy in his mind, allowing him a glimpse as if to taunt him on the sheer fact that he had no idea what had happened at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Side Effects

**Author's Note:**

> Written with a TON of distractions at a convention, so hopefully it doesn't come across that way. Inspired by the Superman Vs Batman trailer where Bruce is all trussed up like Thanksgiving turkey.  
> Beta Readers: sakuraame  
> Song[s]: "ET" by Katy Perry

If anyone were to ask him how he ended up in this position, Bruce wouldn't have been able to say. The images of the last things he could recall still hung heavy in his mind, allowing him a glimpse as if to taunt him on the sheer fact that he had no idea what had happened at all. There had been the party, an event filled with high society and all the snooty shit he hated to deal in, but had to in order to present his public face. And then there had been the tingling feeling of something incredibly not right, like ice sliding through his veins, and he had known Bruce Wayne wasn't the face he needed to be presenting right then.

The shadow of the time between the party and the cave was filled in with only flashes, though that was nothing unusual when he was fully focused on something. And then he recalled the wind on his face as he took off through Gotham, now Batman and no longer Bruce Wayne. The signal in the sky, the frantic voice of Jim telling him something that now only registered at the edge of his consciousness; unimportant to recall the words, only the sense of foreboding and the wrench of pain in his gut that had nothing to do with wounds and everything to do with emotional compromise. 

He could remember the familiar face, the horribly familiar cape and suit... and worse, the jerky movements that implicated everything happening to some form of mind control. There was a building crumbling and the sound of sirens... and the broken, aching voice of Superman, a single word on his lips, one he wouldn't have uttered if he could have said anything else. " _Bruce._ " It had been haunting in a way that made Bruce's blood run cold.

And then there had been pain, so much pain. But that's where it all stopped being images and started being sensations and sounds, nothing visual left at all. Screams, horrible screams... anguished choking... the feeling of his own hands on someone's throat, of his knee in Clark's gut. Maybe it was a bad sign that he knew exactly what that particular action felt like. The sensation of falling... and then nothing... until now.

His hands were bound over his head, chains wrapped tightly around his gauntlets and attached to the ceiling. His feet barely touched the floor, mostly brushing rather than actually touching unless he tipped his toes to help hold him there, to take the strain off his wrists. Taking stock of his body, he found his hands were already numb, his back aching in a way a little too familiar to another time and another place, a different fight. Everything burned with the steady sort of ache that told of too many hits, too powerful, and too quickly for even his own abused body to take on. Swallowing felt like sandpaper and his head swam without his eyes even being open. Nausea kicked up a level and he forced his eyes open despite his better judgment, focusing on the ground in front of him to steady his equilibrium.

A cold, numb sort of feeling slid over him as he watched Clark's shadow come toward him, advancing through the bare light of a bulb. He shivered slightly, lifting his head just enough to peer through his cowl at him as he came to a stop just in front of him. This time there was something different in Clark's face, something he hadn't seen there before, something that forced his breath into a ball in his throat, choking him up on it.

Bruce flinched back as Clark reached for him, shuddering slightly when the touch didn't come down hard as he'd expected. Instead, Clark's fingertips traveled over his cheek, thumb brushing over his lips, and then shifting down and across his jaw. Both hands came to his cowl, slowly sliding his fingers under and lifting it up, pulling it off. For a moment, Bruce found himself focused on his cowl instead of Clark's face, watching it dangle from his hand and then slowly plop to the floor. Another heartbeat and then, "Bruce..." This time it was anything but strained, the sound of it nearly gentle. 

His eyes snapped back to Clark's face, studying him for a long moment before breathing out, "Clark?" His voice sounded strained, as if he'd been choked nearly to death. Hesitantly, he swallowed, wincing when it felt like hell to do so.

Clark's hand came back to his cheek, his palm gentle across Bruce's cheek, to the point he couldn't help but turn his head into the touch, his lips parting slightly and his eyelids falling closed. Something like shock filtered through him at his own actions, a delayed response to the immediate one he'd just displayed and his heart rate picked up as he became rapidly aware that his senses weren't nearly as honed as usual, that his actions were coming before his mind had a chance to analyze them like he usually did.

"We were both manipulated..." Clark moved impossibly closer, his knee nearly touching Bruce as he spoke, keeping his voice low. "I used your knock-out packets on us both and it dulled me to the point I could take control back, but it knocked you out cold." Another half step and Clark was pressed against him, his body heat slipping in through Bruce's armor. "It... has had," Clark's voice came out faintly stressed, "some side-effects I did not intend. Things I still cannot control."

Bruce could feel his fear easing up, the uneasy quiver of his gut calming down as it came to light what was really going on here. He let his cheek rest against Clark's palm, his eyelids falling closed as he did his best to relax. "I couldn't get rid of this side-effect and I've never had to use it where I end up remaining with someone after I've dosed myself."

The chains rattled as Clark's free hand grasped them, holding just above Bruce's bound hands. His breath was hot across Bruce's face as he leaned in so close Bruce could almost taste it. "This isn't... just about... being dosed with a drug you created, Bruce."

Tilting his head, Bruce let his tongue slide out, wetting his bottom lip as he let the feelings coursing through him own him for the moment. "Let it claim you... 's better this way." The familiar sliding coolness of the drug eased through his veins and he breathed out a sigh, remembering this was the best way to let it work through his system, not fighting it every step of the way. On the plus side, it broke mind control or any sort of brain-altering issues, but in the same breath, it was one of its own. Just more potent, more direct, and programmed - so to speak - with something far more innocuous with a latency just long enough to get back to the cave if he needed to before the effects kicked in after the absence of whatever other control had been exerted. And a half-life short enough it would be nearly impossible to reprogram it if anyone took it from him.

There was a little hitch in Clark's breath and then his hands were sliding over Bruce's hips, coming around to grasp his lower thighs, pulling his legs up and essentially forcing Bruce to wrap his legs around him in order to stop pulling at the chains binding his wrists. The downward slack in the chains left room to back up and the next thing Bruce knew, he was pressed against the wall, one of Clark's hands still supporting him, the other on the wall beside his head. His own body surged toward Clark, every ounce of latent desire he held for the other finally spilling over. Unable to stop it, he rocked against Clark, nearly desperate not to have his armor between them any longer, but knowing he should keep it on all the same.

Clark's hand moved from the wall, up over Bruce's shoulder, gently caressing before he moved to Bruce's neck, his features full of pain as he ghosted his hand over what Bruce could only assume were bruises there. Their eyes met and locked, the air heavy with their silence for a moment. "I did this." It was a statement of fact rather than a question. 

"I don't know." Bruce shifted his legs up on Clark's hips, his pelvis tilting forward just enough to make his strap uncomfortable against his growing arousal. "The powder... it urges you to give in to your most innocuous hidden desire. You can fight it if you want, but it's easier... if you don't. Faster to wear off." He could hear his voice dipping low, his entire body lighting up as he arched toward Clark again, rocking against the rapidly evolving evidence of Clark's desire. 

"Is this..." Clark moved his hand to press up along Bruce's throat, fingers faintly squeezing, though not enough to cause any more damage. "Is this what you want?" His fingertips ghosted downward, along Bruce's breastplate and moving down further to the clasp of his utility belt. 

"Unchain me and find out..." Bruce gave Clark a curious look. "Or is that part of what you couldn't stop wanting? Part of what you couldn't fight off? Binding someone up... or binding _me_ up."

Clark's hand slowly released the clasp, Bruce's belt clattering to the floor at their feet. Dragging his fingers back up, he pressed them up and into Bruce's hair, tilting his head back and leaning in to lick up his throat, groaning hot against his neck, eyelids fluttering closed. "I've never let anyone..."

"Submit to you like this?" Bruce rolled his hips, shuddering and straining a bit against the chains. "Circulation is gone... let me down and we'll do this right."

Clark carefully eased Bruce against the wall completely, holding him there with his body as he reached up and simply snapped the chains a bit above Bruce's hands. His fingers pulled the chains away then, reaching and cradling Bruce's hands against his chest, rubbing circulation back into them.

Bruce breathed out a sigh of relief the moment he was released, just resting in Clark's hold while his hands were cared for, his hips giving a slow roll once in a while. "This will change things between us... but it's an acceptable risk if we're both willing to take it."

There was nearly a minute where Clark didn't speak at all, just tending to Bruce's hands. Finally letting his hands go, he rested his palms on the wall again, slowly shifting their position until Bruce was pressed right against his groin, against the evidence of what he was feeling toward him. "Things have already changed."

"Then give in, let it consume you... just remember I'm human in the process." His lips gave the faintest twitch toward a smile and the answering sparkle in Clark's eyes was well worth every ounce of it. "Is it the act of binding me or the submission that gets you?"

"The idea of you beneath me... of me taking _the_ Bruce Wayne... _Batman_." Desire flared hot in Clark's gaze and Bruce groaned deep in his throat at the idea of it.

"Then this is me, _Batman_ , submitting to your every whim, your every desire. My only requirements are that this is all done properly and that there is no regret." He was silent for a moment and then breathed out, "Where are we?"

"The abandoned warehouse near Wayne Enterprises." Clark's hand tugged a little at his hair, tilting his head back again and shifting under his jaw to nip lightly at his throat. A few more gentle bites and Clark's hands were moving again, easing down over Bruce's sides, over his hips and around to his ass, cupping and then squeezing, a moan bubbling up from his throat. "Everything I want?"

"Everything." Bruce didn't bother to elaborate, knowing this was just the last shreds of everything Clark had built around himself shedding away as he emerged into this bold new world. 

An instant later, Bruce's feet were on the floor and his pants were down to mid-thigh, his jock going with it as well. Clark took one knee in front of him, his hand dragging down along his own suit, finding and grasping his cock as he pushed Bruce's hips back until he was against the cool wall. Their eyes met and Clark held his gaze as he moved in, sliding his tongue over the head of Bruce's shaft. His tongue flicked and Bruce groaned, closing his eyes and slowly sliding his arms up above his head, locking wrists and holding them there as he pushed his hips forward. "I think you're in my head..."

"Why?" Clark shifted, his lips sliding down along Bruce's length, his hand squeezing on his hip as he began to move.

"This is... my desire." Bruce let out a broken little sound, his thighs trembling with the effort of not bucking into the warmth of Clark's mouth. "Ever since-"

Clark pulled off and breathed out, "-Central City."

Bruce nodded, his hips finally rocking slightly. "Please..."

"Tell me what you want." Clark's voice held a certain amount of intensity to it that Bruce couldn't deny wanting to hear more of, again and again.

"I want your mouth on me again..."

"No." Bruce cracked one eye open to peer down at Clark, his eyebrow arched faintly, but he said nothing, just letting the single word Clark had spoken float between them. Clark's lips twitched and he shifted forward, sliding his tongue over Bruce's cock, lapping at the head a few more times before he all but purred out, "Be lewd, Bruce." 

Bruce tilted his head back, a laugh easing from his throat before he shook his head. "I want you to suck my fucking cock." His hips arched for a moment, his cock twitching just enough to draw attention to it. "I want you to give in to your desires and stop toying with me... unless that _is_ your desire."

"Better." Clark shifted forward, pinning Bruce's hip again and starting to go after him with an intensity Bruce wasn't sure anyone had ever used to go down him before. His own moans rang from the walls within seconds, unstoppable as the pleasure of the act he wanted the very most came slamming down onto him. His entire body began to get into it, hips arching, hands clenching, his core muscles straining. 

By the time Clark pulled back, Bruce was on edge, his balls tight and his breath hitching in his chest on nearly every inhale. "Clark... Superman..." he heard the answering groan at the second name and he let out a breathy chuckle. "Your _Bat_ wants to feel you lose control. Wants you to tell him what to do with himself for you."

Clark was against him in an instant, his own pants pulled down just enough to reveal his cock, the tip slick with pre-cum already, his foreskin tight around the head in a way that had Bruce groaning as he stared down at it. "More than I ever imagined..." Bruce's words brought a loud moan from Clark's lips, his hips pressing to Bruce's own, his length sliding up beside Bruce's.

"This... this is what I desire most." Clark's hands came to grasp Bruce's wrists, holding his hands over his head as he began to move, his hips working steadily against Bruce's, his breath starting to become harsher as he rocked at a speed that was somewhere near frantic and just below _super_.

Bruce strained toward Clark, his core trembling, his fists clenching as he verged closer and closer to his end. "C-Clark," he managed to get out, pushing himself up, using the wall and Clark's body to move himself, his legs wrapping around the back of Clark's thighs, his own body moving as much as he could, which was admittedly only a slight amount. But it urged Clark on even harder, even faster. Bruce's hands scraped against the wall and he was suddenly glad his gloves were still on, though he had little time to pay any mind to it, his breath coming in short gasps as he neared his end. Grasping at the last straws of his ability to hold back, Bruce barely panted out, "M-may I?"

Clark's loud moan was his only response as their lips crashed into one another, the kiss bruising in force, ferocious in intensity. It proved to be the last thing Bruce could take and he moaned into it, his tongue sliding along Clark's own as he started to lose it. His cum splashed between them, running down over both of their lengths, easing the process for Clark and in an instant, Clark was moving against Bruce with inhuman speed, the kiss drawing blood as he bit down on Bruce's lower lip and held on. 

Bruce clung to Clark, his body shaking under the onslaught of pleasure just after having found his end. A thin whine came from his throat that he couldn't control in the least, his hips jerking every few seconds, completely out of his control. "O-oh god," he whispered once Clark let go of his lip, his hands curling into fists as he was forced back up the ramp faster than he'd ever been before. 

A broken sort of sound left him and Clark's lips pressing to his ear. "I am no God... but I _can_ be yours." Another few thrusts and Bruce nearly screamed, the sound grating and half-choked from his already damaged throat, his entire body shaking as he began to cum for the second time, this one so intense, so forceful, that he managed to actively buck against Clark even with how much Clark was giving him.

Clark's hips surged toward him a half-dozen or so more times and then stilled, a moan ripping free of him as he added to the warmth between them, Bruce feeling it start to drip down his sac. "Clark," he whispered out, barely catching his breath, each moment of it jerky and inadequate as air to his lungs.

"Bruce..." Clark eased the both down onto the floor, kneeling and letting Bruce remain draped across his thighs as they came down. 

It was a few minutes before Bruce finally spoke up, sounding weak to his own ears. "Tell me you don't regret this..."

"I don't regret this. Not in the least. Do you?"

Bruce gave it a moment and then offered, "And somehow regret the one thing I've always hated I couldn't admit? No, I don't."

Clark moved to press his forehead against Bruce's own, their eyes locking on one another. "Why, Bruce Wayne... I do believe you just learned how to be honest with yourself."

Bruce's lips twitched faintly and he huffed out a quiet scoff. "Must have been your cock."

Instantly Clark's face lit up and he grinned. "A joke! Must be my lucky day then."

"Destroy half my building and you call it a lucky day..." Bruce tried to give him a disgruntled look, but he could already feel the drug wearing off and he was feeling much more comfortable in his own mind, though not physically, all the aches becoming rapidly more apparent. "But, in this case, I have a tendency to agree with you."


End file.
